


Never Is A Promise

by Brithna



Series: Tidal Project [7]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 03:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brithna/pseuds/Brithna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a nice, short and rather light story. I suppose after #6 we could all use such a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Is A Promise

 

Miranda looked at her phone and let out another exasperated sigh. She was expecting a call in about thirty minutes and the very last thing she needed right now was a dead cell phone battery. “Roy, I assume you have your cell phone charger with you?”

“Yes, Miranda.” He stuck his hand out and she gave him the phone. “It shouldn’t take too long. This is one of those quick chargers…Thank God we have the same kind of phone, huh?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Of course we do, I gave it to you.”

“Right. Well we have about forty-five minutes to an hour before we’re back in the city.”

“Roy, you know I cannot be late. This is very important.” Miranda sat back in her seat and tried to focus on the scenery outside her window instead of the clock. She was already anxious enough without watching ever second tick by. They would get there on time.

“You won’t be late. We’ll get there in plenty of time.” He said as he looked at her through the rearview mirror with a slight smile on his face. Miranda rolled her eyes again.

Laying her head back against the seat, Miranda continued to _not_ watch the clock. It had been a long week away; full of meetings that left her wondering why she was even there, better yet why she was still working – period. Everything had become so tedious and frankly quite boring in the industry she loved yet was a slave to at the same time. Lately it seemed like almost no one was interested in originality…which was becoming a deal breaker for Miranda.

When the originality, the true talent, the style were gone…well then what the hell was the point?  Clearly Miranda’s perception had changed and was still changing. Into what exactly she couldn’t say but everything seemed different to her now. Now there was more. Now she was able to see beyond the box she had always lived in. The lighting in her world was even changed now, causing the shades and shadows to stretch further and reach her in so many new ways.

But Miranda’s perception of the world was not the only thing that had changed lately.

She was painting and drawing again. That was probably the biggest, most notable, outward change. For a long time, especially the years she was with Stephen, Miranda had placed her _personal_ creativity aside. It simply had not been safe to share. There had been too much at stake…too many chances for it to be trampled on so Miranda learned to hide it, to turn it off, and to not mention a great many things.  

But now, now she was in a uniquely different set of circumstances. Finally, Miranda was seen for who she was and that inevitably caused her to let go and to regain the fire and passion for the many things she used to love but had given up. Her soul was in danger no longer and for the first time in her life; Miranda was more protected and loved than ever.

It had been with this safety in mind…and with a little help; that Miranda literally tossed the entire contents of her study into the hallway in favor of a stack of blank canvases and boxes upon boxes of long forgotten art supplies. The room looked much better that way, in her opinion, but the hallway was still a complete disaster. One day she would get around to cleaning that up. For now her main objective was to keep uncovering what she had lost. Herself. Never again would she hide and _that_ was a promise she could keep.

“Miranda, your phone’s going off.” Roy waved his hand to get her wayward attention back and she leaned forward quickly, trying to cover her excitement.

“Well! Give it to me.”

“Miranda, the caller id…it’s Stephen.” Roy held the phone up to show her.

“Oh…” That was definitely _not_ the phone call she’d been expecting. “Fine, give it to me. If at some point during this conversation I demand that you pull over so I can jump off the nearest bridge… _don’t_ do it.”

Roy stifled a laugh and handed over the phone.

“Hello, Stephen.”

“Miranda, how are you?”

Small talk? Really? _No._ “I’m the same as always – very busy. What do you want?”

“I want to talk.”

_No._ He wanted something. His tone was far too sweet for a courtesy call. “Isn’t that generally why one dials the phone, Stephen?”

“Yes, it is. Cut me some slack today, Miranda.”

Why did he always have to be such a whiner? “Alright, since you asked so nicely. Now – what do you want?”

“You know what I want. I want to start over…give it another shot.”

Miranda recalled hearing the phrase “abso-fucking-lutely not” used by a certain someone just the other day in a rather lively discussion about a recently painted nude portrait—of that certain someone—that Miranda wished to display in the foyer. The phrase was a perfect fit here. But…

“Excuse me? Need I remind you for the fifth time that _you_ are the one that wanted this divorce?” Roy coughed and cut her a glare in the mirror. Miranda made a slicing motion across her throat and he put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. She thought about raising the privacy screen but this was nearly as much fun for Roy as it was for her.

“Damn-it Miranda, I love you.”

“I realize you did once but you and I see things quite differently now.” Very differently. “You did us both a favor by filing. So – thank you for that.” Most definitely.

“Miranda, you can’t mean that…we just grew apart. That’s all. We can get that back if we just try. I told you that I’d never give up but I did…I can keep that promise now and make things good again. Really Miranda…you’ve given up the fight…don’t do that. Please.”

“Stephen, do not make promises you cannot afford to make in the first place. Just don’t. What is this really about? Is it about money? You’re already getting quite enough.”

“No!” It sounded like he was spiting into the phone. _This_ was the Stephen she knew so well. “I don’t need your money!”

If he didn’t need her money then why in God’s name was he calling her and why in God’s name were they headed straight to court instead of settling this like two _amicable_ adults? “Stephen, don’t lie to me…it’s like all your promises. You cannot _afford_ either one.”

“I’m not lying about the money and I’m not lying about wanting you…loving you.”

Okay, now she was fast becoming ill from this drivel he was spouting. How pathetic. Instead of vomiting it would probably better to just end this fun little game right here and now…once and for all. “Stephen, I want you to listen to me very carefully. _Very_ carefully. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Miranda.” He said with a hint of sarcasm. “I’m listening.”

“Good because this is the last time we’re having this discussion. First of all: You asked for…no _demanded_ this divorce so therefore you shall have it because frankly darling, I want as far away from you as humanly possible. Second of all: tomorrow my attorney will be contacting you bright and early. I want this done and I want it done _now_. You’ve been stringing me along for six months. There will be no going to court, Stephen. We will settle this between our attorneys and then you and I will both be free. Thirdly: do not ever call me again. _Ever_. You will speak to me through my attorney or not at all. Preferably not at all. And God help you if you _ever_ show up at my door step because then you’ll find yourself in jail. I do hope this clears things up for you. That’s all.”

Miranda ended the call and Roy let go of the steering wheel completely to clap in praise. “Enough…enough. Don’t get me killed.” She chuckled and tossed the phone back into his waiting hand. “I hope he understood all of that.”

“I bet he got the message this time. You were pretty…clear.”

“Yes…I believe I was.” Miranda rested her head back against the seat again and closed her eyes. They were only about twenty minutes away from her _appointment_. She was determined to be calmed down and in a better mood by then. Nobody need suffer all because of Stephen putting her into a near fit.

Five minutes into meditating, her phone rang again and before Roy could check the caller id she was already reaching over the seat for it, ready to scream.  “I swear, I will kill him. I am _not_ beyond such an act. I _will_ kill him.” Miranda fell back into her seat and finally looked at the screen. Oh…

“Darling, hello.” Roy smirked into the mirror at Miranda’s drastic change of tone. Again she made that slicing motion across her throat and he turned his attention back to the road.

“Hey!” Said the very excited voice on the other end…Andrea. “I can’t wait to see you. Don’t get me wrong – walking all over Italy with my sister is the bomb but if it had been for one more day I’m pretty sure I would have died.”

“Andrea, don’t be so dramatic. You would not have _died_. Your feet might have…but the rest of you would have been fine.” Miranda impatiently looked out the window for a glimpse of the airport. They were still not close enough.

“No, I’m pretty sure I would have died. Just trust me. Hey, I got you something.” Miranda could hear a lot of commotion in the background as is common for airports and had to press the phone closer to her ear.

“What’s that?”

“Watercolor pencils.”

Miranda laughed. One thing was for certain, she would never be bored and nothing would ever be mundane in her life again with Andrea around. “You had to go all the way to Italy to procure watercolor pencils?”

“No…silly. But I saw them and they look cool-so? You have watercolor pencils now. I might even try them.”

“Darling, your artistic talent consists of staying between the lines in a coloring book…but if you insist.”

“Hey, shut up! I’ll have you know my Superman coloring book is a true work of art.”

“Yes…I’m sure. Where are you?”

“I’m headed for the door…probably ten minutes away. The lines were…argh. Oh, and guess what.”

“What?” Miranda could feel her face go red and heart rate quicken as she checked her watch and looked out the window. They were only minutes away from each other now but this waiting was killing her.

“I got the _most_ fucked up phone call right when I got off the plane…totally _fucked_ up. It was _Nate_. Can you believe that shit?”

Miranda rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, darling… _yes_ I can.”

THE END

_Note: Yes, I know. You feel like you’ve not heard the whole story. I know. I know. But—you will! Another song in this project follows this tale quite nicely. Be patient._

 


End file.
